


don't the moon pull the tide, baby

by Rave



Series: Some Girls [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rave/pseuds/Rave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Figured it out,” Zayn says after a minute. He rests an elbow by Liam’s head, stroking the rim of Liam’s ear, his breath stirring the hair over Liam’s brow. His robe’s fallen open and Liam can feel the long hot line of his skin all the way down.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Why you haven’t fucked me yet.” He says it conversationally, almost casually, but it echoes thunderously in Liam’s brain, in Zayn’s low sweet girl’s voice: <i>Fucked me, fucked me, fucked me.</i> He almost groans aloud.</p><p>--<br/>Or, the one where Zayn's a girl and Liam's just trying to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't the moon pull the tide, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Use Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzLQWSNVFiE), natch, because as far as I'm concerned Miguel is the official balladeer of ZIAM forever.
> 
> warnings for a little pronoun fuckery and some very irresponsible lack of condom use

Out of all of them, Liam’s the best at guessing what time it is without looking. It’s like his party trick. They’ll ask him on the bus when they’ve been driving for about eight hours, with the sun behind clouds and all of them insanely jetlagged with only the barest idea where they’ve come from and where they’re heading, and he can still usually get it within twenty. Some days it’s uncanny: nine-eighteen, six forty-two. 

He has literally no idea what time it is now. It could be ten in the morning or four in the afternoon. It’s like everything stopped, like nothing’s even real except the dreamy gray light and the ruined bed -- and Zayn, naked, glowing, holding on to him and laughing. Zayn’s skin on his skin, Zayn’s smell in his nostrils and taste in his mouth. Zayn is definitely real.

They stumbled out of the bath and just lay together for a while, kissing lazily, touching everywhere they could reach; Liam thinks maybe he fell asleep for a while, hand resting between Zayn’s legs, cupping Zayn’s pussy. Maybe he dreamed of kissing Zayn’s soft sleep-bitter mouth. 

Now Zayn’s slouching cross-legged on the bed and hogging the room service tray, wearing his glasses and a hotel terrycloth robe. His long hair, still damp, is twisted over one shoulder. He’s got a giant chunk of waffle speared on a fork, like it’s a candy apple or something. His mouth is red from being kissed, from Liam’s too-rough jaw, and his eyes -- same as always, warm and lovely and black-lashed -- have this glow in them, when he looks up, that makes Liam’s belly tighten. 

“What?” Zayn says through his mouthful. “Stop staring.”

“That’s like the weirdest ever way to eat a waffle,” Liam says. “You’re gonna be sticky.” He curls a hand around Zayn’s skinny ankle, rubs the knot of bone with his thumb. 

“I’m already sticky,” Zayn says, grinning with his mouth full. “If I get any syrup on you I’ll just lick it off, innit?”

“Skip the syrup then, cut to the good bit,” Liam says. He tickles the bottom of Zayn’s foot: Zayn yelps, leg jerking away. “Hey. Give that back.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Zayn says dubiously, but he’s already sliding his foot trustingly back.

“Nothing. Just don’t like not touching you, is all.” He runs his hand up the smooth curve of Zayn’s calf, the sharp bend of his kneecap and the thin skin behind his knee, where the lightest brush makes Zayn’s breath hitch. The swell of his soft girl’s thigh.

Zayn hums, his hips rocking down a little into the bed, and Liam shudders. He’d swear he can smell it: Zayn’s pussy starting to radiate that thick, sweet scent. 

“Jesus,” he says softly. “Haven’t even kissed you and you’re getting all wet, aren’t you?”

“Been like that the whole time,” Zayn says, “been, you know -- been wet for you all day,” and at the way his lips form around those words -- hesitant, tender, impossibly sexy -- heat shocks through Liam’s whole body. His dick twitches against his thigh.

“Yeah?” he says at last, for lack of anything better.

“You know I have.” Zayn watches him from under those thick lashes. “I keep telling you.”

After a hot, heart-pounding second Liam says, “C’mere.” He tugs imperatively at the trailing sash of Zayn’s robe. 

Zayn laughs, drops his fork and comes, crawling over Liam’s body, knees tightening around Liam’s hips: bends to touch his open mouth to Liam’s, so delicately it’s hardly even a kiss. Liam closes his eyes and slides a hand up into Zayn’s damp fragrant hair, rubs Zayn’s soft cheek with his thumb.

“Figured it out,” Zayn says after a minute. He rests an elbow by Liam’s head, stroking the rim of Liam’s ear, his breath stirring the hair over Liam’s brow. His robe’s fallen open and Liam can feel the long hot line of his skin all the way down, the soft weight of his tits on Liam’s chest.

“What’s that?”

“Why you haven’t fucked me yet.” He says it conversationally, almost casually, but it echoes thunderously in Liam’s brain, in Zayn’s low sweet girl’s voice: _Fucked me, fucked me, fucked me._ He almost groans aloud.

“Yeah?” he says, trying for steadiness. “Is it because we’ve only been in this -- er -- relationship for like, three hours or something, and I usually move slower than that?” He slides a hand under Zayn’s robe, around her waist, up the smooth bumps of her spine. _His_ spine. 

“I bet,” Zayn says, ignoring this, and leans down to kiss Liam’s chin, “you think it wouldn’t be, like. _Right,_ or something.” Another kiss, this time to Liam’s cheekbone just below the corner of his eye. “For you to get off.” He shifts, pricked-up nipples brushing Liam’s chest, and kisses Liam’s neck. His cunt is hotly flush over Liam’s dick now, bare and wet and soft, only the cloth of Liam’s boxers between them. “Like it’s one thing to get _me_ off, but once it’s -- once it’s _you,_ then -- mm -- then you’d be, I dunno. You’d be selfish.”

“I -- did already,” Liam says, lifting slightly into Zayn’s kiss. “Get off, I mean. Remember that bit pretty well.”

Zayn lifts his head, his eyes dark and luminous. 

“Didn’t use me, though,” he says softly. “Didn’t come in me.”

A white-hot wave of arousal roars through Liam from groin to fingertips. He’s hard now, almost desperately. Zayn’s lower lip shines from being kissed.

“And that’s what you want?” Liam asks, voice almost shaking. “Want me to come in you?”

“Mmm,” Zayn says, a low rough hum. The corners of his mouth tilt up in a secret, devastating smile.

“Fuck,” Liam says harshly, fingers sinking into the soft flesh at Zayn’s hip, and Zayn arches into him with a startled sound. Liam strains up and kisses him hard, holding Zayn’s jaw steady and licking into his wet, sugared mouth. 

“I’m not fucking -- I’m not, like, a saint,” he says at last. “It’s not some -- like -- it’s not --” and he runs out of words, reaches down instead and cups Zayn’s pussy, his fingertip barely pressing into the dip there. Zayn’s soaking wet, radiant with heat, and at the touch he whimpers, his silky cunt tightening shallowly around the pad of Liam’s finger. He feels so good.

“I know,” Zayn says, breathless, “I know you’re not, I -- but -- _ah_ \-- w-what is it, then? Don’t you want to?”

“God,” Liam says. He slips his finger back, rubbing a circle over Zayn’s wet cunt, and Zayn breathes out through his teeth. “Yeah. Yeah, babe. I want to.”

“Then --”

Liam doesn’t mean to say it, but Zayn’s eyes are so bright and so familiar, and Zayn’s mouth is sad, like he thinks it’s his fault: and Zayn knows him so well, and Zayn’s always forgiven him. Before he can stop himself he half-whispers it -- tightening his arm around Zayn, pulling him in as close as they can get, and saying like a secret into the safe warm skin below Zayn’s ear, “I’m scared to fuck it up.”

Zayn stills over him. “What?”

“I don’t -- I mean, you know. When I first did it, like --” He can’t even finish the sentence.

“Yeah, I remember, you told us.” Zayn’s voice is dark and warm with fond amusement, somehow both at Liam and not at Liam’s expense. “The whole perfect boyfriend thing. Saved up your allowance, didn’t you, and like, the nice dinner, the nice hotel -- like, God forbid you get really embarrassing and mushy and name all our kids or whatever --”

“Not that,” Liam interrupts, flushing hot.

“Yeah, right,” Zayn says, and kisses the top of his head. “Look, love, I mean, everybody nutted in their pants or elbowed somebody in the face or whatever, didn’t they? Everyone’s rotten at sex until they’re not, and even then sometimes they still are, and that’s all right. I don’t care. I mean you know that, don’t you?”

“It’s not that.” For a second it’s like he’s fifteen again. He can almost catch the lemony carpet-cleaner smell of their room at the Goldthorn out in Walsall: mirrored closets that squeaked as they slid shut, a stiff quilted coverlet and sheets that felt terrifyingly cool and grown-up when he’d sat down on the bed and pulled Sadie down next to him, hoping she couldn’t tell how he was sweating.

He nuzzles his nose deeper into Zayn’s neck, inhaling the rich grounding smell of him. 

“Then _what?_ ” Zayn says, stroking his hair: still fond, but with an edge of understandable impatience.

Liam swallows. After a second he says, “Um, it can -- for girls, it can sometimes like -- I mean, no matter how careful you are -- and I’d be _so_ careful with you, I promise, but it -- I couldn’t stand, if I hurt you --” His voice wavers embarrassingly on the word _hurt_. 

“Li,” Zayn says softly. Then his palm is warm against Liam’s cheek. Liam turns into it.

“I’m being stupid,” he mumbles. 

“No you’re not,” Zayn says. His thumb traces a warm circle over Liam’s jawbone. “You’d never hurt me.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t,” Zayn says steadily. He bends down, the kiss firm and absolutely certain.

“I just,” Liam manages, “I think maybe if we -- maybe I’d feel better if we had like -- something you could say. Like, not just _stop_ , because sometimes -- I said I wanted to make you come a lot of times in a row, I meant that, and the other thing is, with multiples, some girls -- at first, it feels kind of too much, so you might say ‘stop,’ just on instinct, but really --”

“You want,” Zayn says blankly, “you want us to have a safeword so we can have really vanilla, like, romantic heterosexual penis in vagina sex and you can make me come a bunch of times?”

“Yeah,” Liam says a little defensively. “So?”

“Nothing,” Zayn says. The soft warmth in the way he looks at Liam: Liam’s never done anything to deserve that. “Fine. How about, um -- Batman.”

“Batman,” Liam says, grinning in spite of himself, and flicks Zayn’s nose gently. “You. All right, whatever, but don’t -- just promise like -- you’ll say it, okay?”

“I’ll say it,” Zayn promises. His smile is slow, soft, blinding. Liam needs to kiss it. 

“What about when I get like -- a bit bossy,” Liam says after a while. He can feel his face heating up. “I don’t always, um, like doing that, but somehow, you know. With you, like this -- today, it’s -- but at the same time I don’t want to -- ” 

A muscle in Zayn’s leg twitches, rocking him involuntarily against Liam’s thigh: he sinks his head to Liam’s shoulder and makes a funny noise, a cut-off cross between a laugh and a moan.

“Babe,” he says, muffled. “That’s fucking hot as anything. When you get a bit take charge. I really like it.”

“Oh,” Liam says, obscurely pleased. He’d been pretty sure Zayn liked it, wouldn’t have done it if he’d thought anything else, but still, it’s nice to know. “Good.”

“Sides, makes my life easier. I dunno what to do with all this --” he gestures helplessly at his own slight, well-curved girl’s body, “yet anyway, and like. It’s good to feel like -- I won’t mess it up either.”

“You could never mess it up,” Liam objects.

“Neither could you,” Zayn counters. The laugh still darkens his voice, curves it a little. 

“But --”

“Liam,” Zayn says quietly. Liam can feel the velvet brush of Zayn’s lips in his hair, against his skin. “I don’t care if it’s perfect. Just want it with you.”

Liam has to pull back, close his eyes for a second, breathing through the dizzying head rush. He can hear his own heartbeat, hard and fast in his throat.

When he opens his eyes again, Zayn is just watching him. There’s a little worried crease between his eyebrows, the look he gets when he’s not sure how Liam is going to react to something.

Liam breathes out and smiles to let Zayn know that it’s okay. That he’s okay. He reaches out to palm the curve of Zayn’s face, stroking down Zayn’s cheekbone, then along the seam of his lips. Under the pad of his thumb they part a little and Zayn sucks him in just barely, eyelashes fluttering. 

A groan stretches out of Liam’s throat. He pulls his hand back. 

“Lie down then, gorgeous,” he says softly.

Zayn stills. Then -- his eyes, dark and glimmering, still on Liam’s -- he unties the sash on his robe, already fallen open to the waist. He shrugs out of one sleeve and the cloth slips down, down, over his smooth round shoulder to the ring of ink at his elbow, revealing the little swell of his tits. Tight dark nipples already pricking to hardness, a mark turning pink on the pretty curve of the left one where Liam sucked a too-hard kiss. His long hair falls in his eyes and he brushes it back with a grace that’s both studied and innate. The way he moves, it’s like he gets off just on being looked at: Zayn’s always got off a bit on being looked at, obviously, Liam knows that, but he never _knew_ it the way he does now, seeing it in the feline curve of Zayn’s spine, the deliberate way his fingers trail over his smooth belly. 

He wonders distantly if Zayn’s like this when he’s a boy, if he undressed for Harry like this, for anyone else. 

Then the robe falls off Zayn’s shoulders to the bed and Liam stops thinking about Harry. Zayn blinks lazily at him, like he’s waiting for something. There’s a tiny smirk hidden in the corner of his mouth.

Liam brushes two fingers over Zayn’s lower lip. “Show-off,” he says fondly. “Lie _down_.”

Zayn’s mouth quirks into a real smile, eyes crinkling up. He scoots his hips forward and slides back against the pillows, his arms draping over his head, all his slender muscles relaxed. 

Liam hums approval and crawls over him, opening Zayn’s mouth with his tongue, kissing him deep and filthy. Zayn’s legs wrap around his waist: one foot slides down the back of his thigh. Liam runs his hands up Zayn’s arms and then back down, ghosting over Zayn’s birdcage ribs, amazed at the warmth and smoothness of his skin, the delicious sensitivity of him, the goosebumps that prickle up under Liam’s fingers. He reaches between Zayn’s legs and lowers his head to lick under the plump circle of Zayn’s breast. Zayn’s breath hitches; then Liam tongues his nipple, gets it in his teeth, nips and sucks and pulls until Zayn is gasping, hands falling to thread in Liam’s hair. 

“Liam,” he says wildly. “Hang on, babe, just --”

“Hmm?” Liam says, circling Zayn’s clit lightly with the heel of his hand. He rounds his lips and blows out, and Zayn gasps and twists under him, nipple pebbling up and shining with Liam’s spit. 

“I wanna blow you for a sec,” Zayn says hoarsely. His knee digs into Liam’s ribs. “And then you fuck me. Can I?”

“Shit.” Liam’s dick twitches almost painfully, an instant of blinding desire. “I--” 

He has this insane instinct to say, _no,_ to hide his selfishness behind the accident that brought them here. Like, maybe Zayn was right. Maybe until he actually gets off in Zayn’s body, he can still say -- no matter how badly he wants it, has wanted it for so long -- that this is just about Zayn, Zayn’s comfort, nothing to do with him. 

Zayn’s so much easier to hurt than he’d ever let on, and this whole thing is so insane, such new territory in every way. Zayn’s body isn’t a toy. He can’t stand the idea that Zayn might think that.

Zayn’s looking at him through those doe-long lashes, though, his mouth wet and red and raw from being kissed. His eyes are fever-dark and smoky with desire. Sweat shines in the hollow of his throat: tendrils of dark hair are stuck to his cheek and his neck. He’s already so wet on Liam’s fingers, and Liam knows how tight he is inside, how hot. 

“Come on,” Zayn says softly. He reaches up, brushes Liam’s face. “Let me.” 

Liam’s seriously not a fucking saint.

“Okay,” he says after a second. “That’s -- are you sure? That’d be --”

“ _Awesome_ ,” Zayn says happily, and then he tightens his thighs and unexpectedly rolls them over, Liam landing on his back with a little _oof_. 

Zayn’s hair falls around them, smelling damp and sweet. He takes Liam’s chin between his thumb and finger and kisses his mouth soundly, and then he’s moving down, kissing Liam’s collarbones, licking down his sternum to his belly. The trailing point of his tongue is soft and wet.

“Shit,” Liam says helplessly. His head falls back. His hips jerk up uncontrollably when Zayn gets his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulls them off, dropping them unceremoniously off Liam's ankle to the floor. Then Zayn’s hands smooth over his thighs, long gentling strokes like _Liam’s_ the one having his first time, like _Liam’s_ the one who has to be taken care of. His mouth is hot against the upper inside of Liam’s thigh.

“Could you, um,” Zayn says abruptly. “Could you like, talk to me still, and um -- could you look at me?”

“Oh, fuck,” Liam says, the muscles in his belly straining as he cranes down. “Yes. Yeah. Of course, sweetheart.”

It’s unbelievable, overwhelming. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, crouched expectantly between his legs, on her hands and knees with her little ass in the air and her hard-tipped tits brushing Liam’s thighs and her long dark hair falling over her face. Her cheeks are a little flushed, maybe with embarrassment, maybe with arousal. Her bowed pink mouth, spit-shiny and slightly open, is inches from his dick. And she’s Zayn. He loves Zayn so much he feels crazy with it sometimes, always has. And now.

He drops a hand into Zayn’s hair, stroking it convulsively. He says, with a slightly hysterical edge of a laugh, “Fuck, yeah, love, I can look at you. Twist my arm. God. You’re gorgeous. Zayn. You’re unbelievable. I’ve never seen anybody like you.” 

Zayn smiles up at him, relieved and soft and a little bit wicked, too, and his hand closes warm and careful around the base of Liam’s hard cock, pulling it close to his mouth. Liam can feel Zayn’s breath on him and whines: and then Zayn purses his lips and a string of spit drips from them, trickling warm and wet over Liam’s dick. 

Liam swears and his voice cracks on it. The room feels like it’s spinning. 

Zayn doesn’t stop watching him. He kisses Liam’s dick, just at the tip, and then slides his lips down over him, enveloping him in that warm velvet mouth. Aching fire shudders through Liam’s body, tightening his balls, curling his toes, making him gasp. Zayn’s hand twists at the base of him, slick with spit. He sucks harder just before he pulls off, tongue lingering around the crown, lower lip dragging a little.

“Good?” he says.

“Shut up,” Liam says, “I love you,” and Zayn’s laugh is hungry.

He bends his head to suck Liam in again and Liam wraps his hands in Zayn’s hair, carefully, stroking Zayn’s scalp, gathering it low at the nape of Zayn’s neck. When he pulls -- just gently, testing -- a long shiver goes down Zayn’s spine, his rhythm on Liam’s dick faltering for an instant. 

“D’you like that?” Liam asks.

Zayn glances up, eyes hot and half-lidded. He makes a little assenting noise, a soft but decisive _uhm-hm_ that Liam feels the shudder of all the way to his core. 

Liam spreads his fingers over Zayn’s skull, tight in the roots of his hair, and tugs so that hot slack mouth smears up the length of him, lips tightening at the head. Then he pushes Zayn back down, not too fast but firmly, until he’s taking Liam deep, deep in his throat. 

Zayn’s eyes roll back. He moans low and feverish around Liam’s dick. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Liam says, hips jerking uncontrollably. He lets his head fall back again, stares dizzily up at the ceiling. “Shit. Your mouth is perfect, you’re -- perfect, Zayn -- ” 

Zayn makes a choked, urgent sound and Liam fucks up into his mouth again, hands fisted in the heavy silken mass of Zayn’s hair, and Zayn just opens his mouth and takes it: cheeks hollow, lips slick and swollen, spit drooling down his chin and over Liam’s dick. 

“Oh my God,” Liam breathes. “Oh fuck, you’re. Such a -- good girl.” 

Zayn flushes even deeper, an involuntary sound breaking from his throat. His eyes flutter shut for an instant. When they open again they’re hot and so dark. 

“ _Good_ girl,” Liam says again, helplessly, “ah, babe, take it --” and this time Zayn groans, tongue curling around the head of Liam’s cock.

When Liam drags him off again -- a slippery, pornographic pop as his lips break -- Zayn’s gasping for breath. His lovely half-familiar girl’s face is flushed and slack and desperate, his eyes closed, and tears bead at the corners of his thick lashes. The sound he makes as he sucks in air is thick and wet.

“D’you like that, then?” Liam asks, more awed than demanding. He slides one hand out of Zayn’s hair to touch his face, his lush wrecked mouth. “Shit, you’re so sweet; you’re so fucking beautiful. Like when I fuck your mouth like that, babe?”

“Yeah, _yeah_ ,” Zayn says. His voice is hoarse. Liam wraps his hand more securely in Zayn’s hair and tugs again, guiding Zayn up to his knees and dragging his head back a little to bare the smooth slender arch of his throat, and Zayn gasps raggedly. His fingers clench in the sheets over Liam’s thigh. His perfect little tits, upthrust, shine with sweat in the low light: Liam bends quickly to suck one nipple into his mouth, because he can’t not, and thrills at Zayn’s little cry.

“You wet enough for me to fuck you, you reckon?” he asks, low against the damp skin.

Zayn doesn’t answer, just grabs Liam’s wrist and pulls it between his legs, grinds down on Liam’s hand with a little whine. He’s steam-hot, slick, almost dripping. Liam spreads his fingers, nearly biting his tongue at how good it feels, and Zayn sobs out a breath. 

“Want me to fuck your cunt now, love?” Half of him is screaming to just get it _in_ already, plunge into Zayn’s body and lose himself in the slick tight heat, but half of him almost can’t bear the thought that this will be over. That he won’t be able to give this to Zayn again.

“Please,” Zayn says. It comes out half a sob. He’s still clutching Liam’s wrist. “Come on.”

“Please what?” Liam says gently. 

“Oh my god, you _know_ what,” Zayn says, with a note of his old amused annoyance. “What’s wrong with you? Gonna make me beg?”

He cradles Zayn’s face in his palm. “Just want you to tell me, sweetheart.”

There’s a little pause, and then Zayn says quietly, “Please fuck me.” Liam can see his throat move as he swallows. “Fuck me. I want -- want to feel that. You inside me. Will you?”

Liam feels the smile break over his face. He kisses Zayn’s mouth, sucks his tongue, gets an arm around his back and flips them so Zayn’s sprawled against the pillows. “God, yeah. Yeah. I will, darling. Do you have --” 

“No,” Zayn says, harsh. “Don't, I don’t want -- I just want you.”

It’s a terrible idea. That doesn’t matter. Liam didn’t know he could get harder, but his whole body jolts at that, his dick practically aching: that Zayn wants him so badly, wants him raw. 

“Just come once for me first,” he says into Zayn’s mouth. He can hear himself panting, harsh and steady. “Use my hand and make yourself come. Show me you’ve learned something and then I’ll fuck you, babe, just like you want. I’ll make it so good for you.” 

Zayn’s spreading his legs already, catching his lower lip in his teeth. Liam nudges his knee against Zayn’s thigh, pushing it open a little wider so he can see. Zayn’s rubbing himself off frantically against Liam’s hand, moving Liam where he wants him. His bare soaked cunt is blushing deep red, and it glistens like fruit on Liam’s fingers. 

Liam falls into Zayn’s body, traces Zayn’s cheek and his jaw with his mouth, sucks a kiss into Zayn’s neck so hard it might bruise. He inhales the rich smell of Zayn’s sweat, fills his lungs with it. “Can’t wait to fuck you," he tells Zayn quietly, biting off each word. "Can’t wait to feel you clutch up on my dick -- you’re so tight, love, you’ll be so -- ”

“Shit, I’m --” Zayn sounds wild, lost. He’s pulling Liam faster and faster against himself, pushing in hard little flutters, and his belly curves and falls with his breath in short sweet pants. “Oh fuck, Liam I --”

Liam gets a shaking hand around his own dick, crawls up close so he can bump the tip around Zayn’s little hole, just teasing, barely pressing in, just enough to push Zayn to the edge, enough to drive new sweet noises out of him. “You’re close, babe, aren’t you? You’re so close. Come for me, darling. Let me see you come.”

Zayn’s eyes are unfocused. His belly’s trembling. He makes a short, agonized noise, drawing in a short breath, and his hips stutter. Liam presses Zayn back against the pillows and holds him, kisses Zayn’s slack mouth as soft and long as he can: and just as Zayn hits that final tremble Liam rests his forehead against Zayn’s and slides into him, slow and deep, into the sweet clutching heat of Zayn’s body.

Zayn just has time to tense up before he’s coming around Liam’s dick, hard and quiet. One sharp desperate gasp, almost a sob, and then another. His blunt fingers claw down Liam’s back. Liam can feel him shaking in every muscle. Inside his cunt pulses in waves, rolls of pressure that clench around Liam’s dick and make stars burst behind his eyelids. 

“You feel so -- so good, oh, love,” Liam says, unsteady, lightheaded with how good it is. How they fit. “You’re so tight, you’re just, you’re so -- incredible. You’re. Made for me, babe, made to come on my dick -- _Zayn_ \--”

“Oh fuck,” Zayn’s sobbing. “Oh my God. Liam.” 

“You’re so good,” Liam tells him, palming Zayn’s face desperately, kissing him as he drags out of that delicious clinging heat, “love, you’re so --” and as he plunges back in Zayn makes a devastated sound and arches for him so beautifully, his brows drawing together. 

“Gonna make you -- again,” Liam says incoherently, but he manages to get a hand down between their bodies. He lets his thumb flutter against Zayn’s clit, the same swelling-sinking rhythm he’s fucking Zayn to. 

Zayn sinks his teeth into Liam’s shoulder. He’s still shaking. “ _Liam!_ Nh -- don’t, don’t, it’s too -- oh -- oh, please --” 

“Want me to stop?” Liam murmurs, sliding an arm around Zayn’s waist to hitch his body up closer. “I can stop, if you tell me --” fucking Zayn deeper, slower, shaking with the effort of holding himself back from the sweetness of it.

“Don’t,” Zayn says, slurred, “don’t stop.”

Liam’s stomach tightens and he curves his hips up to hit the place he’s found in Zayn’s body so many times already. Zayn twists sideways beneath him, the sounds he’s making ragged and desperate now. Liam won’t let him go: keeps fucking him steadily, presses his hand harder against the pulsing tenderness of Zayn’s clit, lets Zayn ride that oversensitivity until he’s mewling. 

Every sound seems like it’s coming from a distance: His own harsh huffs of breath, and Zayn calling him, and the wet gorgeous slap of their bodies together. Liam won’t last much longer. He knew that from the first moment he felt Zayn’s cunt clutch sweetly around him. Whatever self-control he had, he used it up getting them here. 

Zayn’s dark eyes are wide and dazed now, his mouth hanging open, and his grip on Liam’s sweat-slick bicep is dogged but loose. 

“Come on, love,” Liam says unsteadily. Zayn’s eyes drag to his face. “Come on, beautiful. For me. One more, babe.”

“Liam,” Zayn says dopily. His fingers slide up the back of Liam’s neck.

“Love,” Liam gasps, and pushes hard, “love you --”

Liam can see it wash over his face, a gorgeous shudder that takes Zayn’s whole body noiselessly. His whole face relaxes: then he’s smiling so wide, his eyebrows knotted up as if he’s in pain, but that smile absolutely radiant, absolutely true. 

Liam falls to him, kisses his mouth helplessly again and again. The heavy scent of Zayn’s come rises all around them, intoxicating. Liam’s so close, the tidal pull getting faster and faster, harder and harder. It feels like Zayn’s body is dragging him in and out, or in and in, trying to hold him inside, trying to keep them close. Each time he pushes in Zayn hitches up against the pillows, breasts bouncing, languid and delicious and still, uncontrollably, smiling. His lovely sleek body glistens everywhere with sweat, come-slick between his thighs.

It’s building up in him like a storm, pressing him closer and closer. “Babe, you’re so good, I can’t -- I’m gonna -- fuck --”

“Yeah,” Zayn says softly. He combs his hand up through the sweat-spiked hair on the back of Liam’s skull. “Please. In me.”

Liam’s gone. He buries his face in the warmth of Zayn’s throat and fucks him. It’s so hard their bodies are jolting, so close skin to skin that he can barely tell where Zayn’s body stops and his begins. One of Zayn’s legs wrapped tight around his back, Zayn’s hand running soothingly up and down his spine. He comes with a helpless barking cry, rutting deep into that welcoming heat in three deep strokes of his hips, slower and slower.

Zayn’s murmuring something, and under the roar of blood in his ears Liam can hear, _Love you, love you._ He stays pressed deep, weightless, mouth against Zayn’s sweat-slick skin, still shaking a little. 

“Okay,” Zayn’s saying now. He’s laughing, stunned and thick, as Liam pushes into him again to wind him down. “All right. Fuck! I’m -- I, uh.”

“Is it,” Liam says breathlessly, “are you--” and then Zayn’s kissing him, all teeth and tongue. His heel presses hard into Liam’s ass, keeping him tightly inside.

“We didn’t use,” Liam says, “I’m sorry, I should’ve like--” but Zayn mumbles something laughing and inaudible, and then his wet mouth slides around Liam’s ear. His breath is hot and his tongue is a tight curl against the sensitive skin there and Liam goes loose and shuddery all over, hears himself groan. 

“I wanted,” Zayn says. “It was dumb probably, but I wanted.” He closes a languid arm around Liam’s shoulders and bites his chin gently.

“What if I’ve got herpes or something?”

“Then I wouldn’t want you to have herpes alone, babe,” Zayn says reasonably. He laughs, a low contented vibration that Liam can feel against his own heart. “Liam. I’d have your fucking kids, man, I don’t care.”

Liam feels like he’s glowing, like everything inside him is lit up and warm. The sound of the rain is coming back into his consciousness, cozy and comforting against the window. Everything smells like sex, earthy and sharp, and he can feel the sticky dampness all over them. He holds Zayn’s face in his palm, takes him in for a long time. Then Zayn’s mouth closes sweetly on Liam’s lower lip, gentle and devastating.

“You know what,” Zayn says happily, running his hand down Liam’s abs, “that was worth the wait. Even though you were like impossible about it. No, don’t -- don’t pull out, stay, stay. -- Ugh, fine.” 

Liam doesn’t relish pulling free of the cradling warmth of Zayn’s body either, but he slots a thigh between Zayn’s legs so they’re still locked together and kisses Zayn’s forehead as a consolation. 

“I wasn’t being impossible,” he says. “I was being _careful_ is all, which like -- I don’t see why you get to be so bloody blasé about the whole thing. Maybe you can just roll with everything, but I’m not like that, I get --”

“‘Blasé?’” Zayn repeats, nuzzling into Liam’s jaw, sounding amused and incredulous. 

“I’ve learnt a couple of words off my phone,” Liam says. He strokes Zayn’s narrow waist, down the bump of his tailbone to cup the tight curve of his ass. “That really gets you going, doesn’t it? You can’t get enough of my, like, huge throbbing vocabulary.”

“Can’t get enough of you, like, all-round,” Zayn says, the smile flickering in his eyes. “Embarrassing, honestly.”

“Me neither,” Liam says. “Me too, I mean. _Zayn--_ ”

“Let’s do it again,” Zayn says. He runs two teasing fingers down the sticky trail of hair leading down from Liam’s bellybutton.

“I’m going to die,” Liam says frankly. “You need to give me twenty minutes and like, maybe a snack.”

For a second Zayn seems to be considering. Then in a flash he wriggles out from under Liam and Liam flops face-first onto the pillow, groaning. An instant later there’s a sweaty weight draping over his back, and Zayn says in his ear, “Open up.” 

Liam obediently opens his mouth. Zayn’s fingertips are deft against his lips: Liam chews obediently and then lets his tongue dart out, chasing the maple-sugar sweetness on them.

“Cold waffles,” Zayn says, kissing his ear. “The food of love.”

“I think there were some promises about licking things off me,” Liam says.

“That can be arranged,” says Zayn. He rolls off Liam’s back and tucks himself into Liam’s side, snuggling under his arm. “Once you tell me you can survive it.”

“What are you so happy about?” 

“What the fuck do you think?” Zayn’s smile is blissed-out and a little stupid; his eyes search Liam’s face. “I’m just, like. I don’t know. I’m just really chuffed that this is -- happening. That you’re here.”

“I’m here.” Liam kisses him, touches him, pulls him in and tangles their bodies together, because there’s no other way to tell him just how much.

“I know,” Zayn says, and kisses Liam’s palm. “I know you are.”


End file.
